


fist that helps you survive

by joonswig



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Plants, accounting major minho, biology major jisung, god this one's a ride, jisung calls minho baby a lot, minsung adopt plants together, minsung are irritating (very in character), side hyunlix and some random Kpop people make an appearance, their friends kinda hate them, they're both peak whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonswig/pseuds/joonswig
Summary: “What do you think of gay adoption?” Jisung asks again, taking a mouthful of cereal.“I mean,” Minho furrows his brows, “I am gay, right? You do know that.”“Of course I know that. I wouldn’t move in with a hettie if it killed me,” Jisung grimaces at the mere concept. “But I mean, for us.”Minho closes his eyes and purses his lips, “come again?”akaMinho and Jisung adopt a Dracaena and then some.





	fist that helps you survive

**Author's Note:**

> omg okay so a few hot notes:
> 
> 1\. this takes place in ny (of course) jisung is in his sophomore year, minho in his junior year because i fucked up their ages love that  
> 2\. jisung is tall in this au. this is crucial  
> 3\. the title is a reference to a poem "the news" by tony hoagland i swear it makes sense  
> 4\. there are mentions of homophobia and alcohol  
> 5\. the names of the flowers have meanings (those are from the internet so if its wrong just. let me die in peace):
> 
> hwayoung (dracaena) - a beautiful flower  
> namoo (yucca) - tree  
> jangmi (miniature rose bush) - rose  
> hangyeol (banana tree) - unity
> 
> 6\. this is dedicated to my own dracaena and yucca who have embarrassing names i love you my babies  
> 7.[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/hanghangoverbang/playlist/6E2FkJQWGQ9ZsyhbVdGyb0?si=nF5BOUaMTqKyyimkV-sorg)

It’s late November, three months into their living together and Minho would say he quite enjoys living with Jisung. He cleans up well, know how to cook a mean homemade dinner and is fun to be around with after both of them are done with the mundane schoolwork. But the younger has his moments, like the day when he startles Minho at the breakfast table with a question so surreal, Minho has to ask him to repeat it.

 

“What do you think of gay adoption?” Jisung asks again, taking a mouthful of cereal. 

 

“I mean,” Minho furrows his brows, “I _am_ gay, right? You do know that.”

 

“Of course I know that. I wouldn’t move in with a hettie if it killed me,” Jisung grimaces at the mere concept. “But I mean, for us.”

 

Minho closes his eyes and purses his lips, “come again?”

 

“Okay, so look. Love living with you, love the apartment, but it _is_ kinda bland,” he gestures at the empty walls, painted a rather depressive shade of grey. Minho has to agree, the couch in the living room is black, slightly worn out, with two plain beige pillows thrown haphazardly on each side. They don’t have pictures on their shelves, just books for school and stacks of papers grouped into piles conveniently named ‘SCHOOL — MINHO’, ‘SCHOOL — JISUNG’ and the most horrifying one, ‘BILLS’.

 

“Well, yeah, but how do you think a kid will help?” Minho is sure there’s some sort of twisted logic behind it, but he can’t seem to grasp it. Maybe it’s a STEM major thing.

 

“Dude, what do you mean kid?” Jisung asks. “I meant like, adopting a plant or some shit. ‘Coz I checked the lease agreement to see if we can get a cat or something, you’re a cat gay, aren’t you? But yeah, we got cucked by law, so bummer. Plus, plants are decorative, so that’s hot.”

 

Minho takes a while to process the information overload, “okay, first, you do know that the first thing you associate with adoption is, well, adopting actual kids?”

 

“Sure, but, like, why would I mean that? We’re just roommates, anyways. _And_ we’re not hag-aged enough.” Minho sighs.

 

“Well, how would us being gay affect the plant, then?”

 

“Oh, I read this great book,” the tone of Jisung’s voice gets brighter, which Minho by now learned to associate with excitement, “it’s, like, about how plants actually feel, right? When the weather’s, dunno, cold or some shit, they get stressed, right? They release abscisic acid, which inhibits—”

 

“English, please,” Minho reminds him.

 

“Sorry, I know I have to cut down on the nerd talk. But yeah, they get stressed, they get motivated to grow, all that crap. They’re living things, right? So, I wanted to know if you’re okay with gay people adopting plants. I personally think plants don’t give a damn, but you never know.”

 

Minho rubs his temples, “okay. Okay, you want to adopt a plant.”

 

“Yeah!” 

 

“Okay, sure, it’s a nice idea,” he shrugs. Jisung beams at him.

 

“Great! What do you think we should get?”

 

“Aren’t succulents, like, starter plants?” Minho suggests. “Or cacti? Low maintenance and shit.”

 

Jisung sighs, “Minho, adoption is a serious matter. A plant is like a family member, you have to have a bond with it. I need you to be more invested in this.”

 

“So, what do _you_ suggest?” Minho takes a sip of his tea.

 

“Okay, so,” Jisung gets up to grab his laptop from the coffee table. He sets it in front of Minho and pulls one of the chairs to sit beside him. He opens a powerpoint presentation, much to the older’s amusement, who decides to play along with Jisung’s theatrics. 

 

The first slide shows a picture of a little pot filled with tiny pink buds. “This is a miniature rose bush,” Jisung says. “She’s a handful, but a sight to see. She’s picky with the water and requires a lot of repotting and pruning, so that’s a downside, but other than that she’s a sweetheart.”

 

“A cutie,” Minho comments, “a pop of colour we deserve.”

 

Jisung turns to him with a grin, “you’re into her?”

 

“For now, yeah,” Minho nods, “but show me the other ones.”

 

“Okay, now this is a hot one, a banana tree. An exotic boy, pretty crazy because it can self-pollinate. By the way, the banana tree isn’t actually a tree, it’s a herb! So it’s pretty exciting. The problem with this bad boy is that he’s a greedy little shit. He’s munching on that fertiliser like there’s no tomorrow and we need to provide nutritious meals for the baby right? Well, turns out a high-quality fertiliser for banana trees is beyond our current budget.”

 

“Oh, but he’s lovely,” Minho points at the ridged leaves, “that’s a pity.”

 

“Yeah, maybe if they take me in for that hot paid internship next semester,” Jisung pats his back, “but it’s still an option. Now the next one is a personal favourite.”

 

“Dracaena,” Minho reads the title of the slide, the neon green comics sans hurting his eyes, “she’s pretty.”

 

“She’s my mom’s favourite,” Jisung tells him, “she’s not super big on the sun, which is perfect, because we don’t get too much sun. Isn’t a thirsty little hoe, so that’s also a bonus. Baby girl doesn’t get pests often, we love that for her. We do need to repot her sometimes, but it’s the usual thing for plants anyways, so we win.”

 

“Must say, she’s kinda cute,” Minho smiles, “I like the tree thing, generally, it’s a cute idea. Like, I liked the roses, too, but like imagine having an actual tree in your house, that’s banger.”

 

“There’s also this pretty baby,” Jisung switches the slide, “but she’s called Devil’s Ivy.”

 

“And?”

 

“And Felix is Christian. What if he’s, like, not into that?” 

 

Minho checks to see if Jisung is mocking their friend, but it seems like a genuine concern on his part, “well, she’s also pretty. Honestly, all of them are.”

 

“You liked the Dracaena?” Minho nods. “Okay, then we can try that out, since I already have some experience taking care of it.”

 

Minho looks around the apartment, realising one of their window sills is big enough for a plant to grow comfortably, “do you think she’ll fit there?” 

 

Jisung hums, closing his laptop and venturing to get a closer look, “I’d say it’s just fine. Are you free tonight?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“There’s this home depot near the campus, checked on their website and Dracaenas should be available,” Jisung smiles, “wanna come with?”

 

“Sure,” Minho shrugs, “I mean, what kind of dad would ditch on his own kid’s adoption.”

 

The comment makes his flatmate laugh, “that’s the spirit. I’ll pick you up from class, then, that’s cool?” Minho explains that he has to pop in for lunch before they go, so Jisung suggests they grab McDonald’s together. Not missing out on a chance to get some nuggets, Minho eagerly complies. 

 

When he tells Hyunjin who takes the Corporate Transactions course with him about Jisung’s proposal, he seems mildly amused, “does he still have that crush on you?”

 

“He never had a crush on me,” Minho replies, voice hushed, “he asked me out once and dropped it. It was freshman year and he flirted with anything that moved.”

 

“Just because Jisung wasn’t a dunce about you rejecting him doesn’t make it any less of a crush,” Hyunjin argues, but Minho knows better. 

 

The year before, Minho used to work as a barista at a cat café, one that Jisung started frequenting. They didn’t yet know each other, merely casually acquainted due to Jisung popping in ever so often. That was until he boldly asked the older if he would like to go on a date with him. Minho refused, a little wary of the boy’s reaction, but Jisung didn’t take it to heart, brushed it off and said he hoped they could still be friends. He didn’t stop coming to the café, but wouldn’t pester Minho or make him uncomfortable, which the older greatly appreciated. 

 

Sometime later, around November or December, Jisung and he are almost forced to get closer due to their ever-increasing number of mutual friends. Jisung takes Calculus with Woojin, who used to be Minho’s roommate in their freshman year. Minho in return knows Hyunjin and Felix from the dance classes he takes, while Jisung and them go way back, best friends since high school. Dahyun, Jisung’s former co-worker at the local convenience store, tutors Minho’s younger sister in Chemistry. The list goes on and sooner rather than later, Minho can’t imagine a hang out without Jisung’s snarky but bright attitude. 

 

In fact, they’ve grown close enough for Minho to propose living together when his flatmate Changbin bailed on him. He knew that Jisung was in search of a cheaper place than the NYU dorms, which he had trouble affording. Minho’s salary from the department store he currently works in and Jisung’s paycheck from the store, equipped with financial support, helped them rent out a decent sized place in Queens Village. 

 

“Well, crush or not, we’re friends now,” Minho assures, “Jisung’s quirky like that, you know him.”

 

“All I’m saying, it’s pretty cute, domestic and shit,” Hyunjin coos, “just homies don’t adopt plants together.”

 

“Just homies don’t die of stroke every time Felix wears eyeliner, but here we are,” watching Hyunjin splutter in embarrassment, Minho realises the only way for the younger to get off his back was to bring up his own love life. Too preoccupied with deflecting any assumption Minho could have concerning his non-existent feelings towards their friend, Hyunjin forgets about Jisung entirely. 

 

After classes are over, Minho checks his phone to see a text from Jisung informing him that he’s already waiting. He bounces from his seat and notices Jisung leaning against the wall, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. When he notices Minho, he quickly stuffs it into his pocket and they head to the nearest Mac.

 

“So,” he throws his arm around Minho’s shoulder, as they wait in the queue, “it’s a big step, huh? You think you’re ready?”

 

Minho elbows his side, “stop, I’m seriously scared the plant thing was just a hoax and you’re taking me to an adoption centre.”

 

“Chill, sweetheart, baby steps,” Jisung teases him, only for Minho to kick the back of his shin lightly. “Ow, no need to get feral.”

 

Minho wants to respond, but it’s their turn to order, “whaddaya want?”

 

“Just double what you’re taking,” Jisung shrugs. Minho taps on the monitor, but before he can pay, Jisung already has his card pressed at the terminal.

 

“Oh, wait, I’ll pay you back,” Minho wants to grab his wallet but Jisung stops him.

 

“Nah, it’s fine, just pay next time,” he smiles. 

 

They sit beside each other at one of the few free tables, tray set between them. Jisung isn’t a pretty eater, but Minho doesn’t mind, finding the way he vores his chicken amusing, if not a little endearing, “slow down, Sung, you’ll choke.”

 

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, “it’s exciting. And I’m starving.” 

 

“S’okay,” Minho takes a spare tissue from their tray and wipes off the sweet and sour sauce from the younger’s cheek, “you really like plants, huh?”

 

Jisung nods, “I like animals, obviously, but I love plants so much. They’re so interesting and they pee way less.”

 

“Do plants pee?” Minho asks.

 

“Uh, not really. They don’t release a lot of nitrogen, generally. If we’re looking for an equivalent, I guess they fart out their waste, through like, leaves,” Jisung explains, making him laugh. 

 

“Kinda hot.”

 

“Very.”

 

“You wanna get a masters from that? Like, after you’re done with your undergrad?” Jisung majors in Biology. From what Minho knows, he wants to work in a lab, but he isn’t aware what specialisation the younger has in mind.

 

“It would be nice, I mean, there’s way less research in actual Botanics than, say, genetics, but they interlink sometimes, and all.”

 

“I’m sure there’s a lot we can still learn.”

 

“Yeah, but genetic research gets like, a shittone of grants,” Jisung sighs, “it’s fun, too, though. We isolated DNA from bananas last week, and you could, like, see it up close and stuff. It’s all white.” 

 

Minho has a vague idea of what DNA is, but he gladly listens to Jisung talk about something that clearly interests him. Being an accounting major himself, he can’t find it in him to be essentially passionate about what he does. He likes it, but it’s nowhere near Jisung’s affinity to biology. While he might not always(never) understand what the younger is talking about, it’s lovely to see him so passionate about something.

 

Stomachs full, they set out to the home depot, which is a couple of streets away. Jisung almost drags him past the shop to get to the florist section. While scanning the shop in search of a Dracaena, Minho points at random flowers and asks for their Latin name to challenge Jisung. The younger is surprisingly familiar with most of the species, which Minho finds somewhat impressive.

 

“Here she is,” Jisung stands on his tippy toes to reach the tree from the shelf, “look at her, just a little baby.” The tree is smaller than Minho expected, but Jisung explains that it is bound to grow taller with proper care. It’s already potted, but the younger insists they stock up on proper soil and vermiculite, and grabs a slightly bigger container. 

 

“Trust me, shop soil is shit,” he says, “we have to repot her first thing, see how the roots are doing.”

 

Minho finds it sweet how caring the boy is about this, usually not very serious and a little scatterbrained. He would pat his head but he’s holding vermiculite in one hand, and tucking a ten-litre sack of soil to his chest with the other, as they wait at the cash register, “you have to teach me a lot about the plant things.”

 

“It’s easy, really,” Jisung reassures him, “you’ll get it in no time. It’s like with animals, when you get your own and learn how to take proper care of it, it’s super simple.” 

 

They must look ridiculous on their ride back home, Jisung clutching the Dracaena protectively, glaring at anyone who brushes past him on the subway. Minho holds the pot with the sacks stuffed inside it for convenience’s sake, having to put it down on the ground every few minutes to let his arms rest. 

 

Once they’re finally back inside, Jisung grabs last month’s bills and scatters them on the kitchen floor. 

 

“My mom usually did it with, like, newspapers,” he mentions, “but this will have to do.”

 

Minho helps him put down the Dracaena on the floor, sets down the new pot as well, “so, what do we do.” 

 

“I have a box of lab gloves in my room, grab some for us,” Jisung instructs, “it’s dirty work.”

 

“Why do you even have them here?” Minho mumbles, shuffling towards Jisung’s room. “On your desk?”

 

“Yeah, it’s white, letters bright orange,” Jisung calls out, “it’s for convenience, by the way.”

 

“Sure, nerd,” Minho teases, passing him two latex gloves. Jisung blows into them and puts them on swiftly, while Minho is struggling to stretch them onto his hands, “you look all professional, like a surgeon, or something.”

 

“Well, I am a professional,” Jisung smiles smugly, “now, we need to put soil and vermiculite, equal amounts. Just grab a handful of one and then I’ll add the other.”

 

Minho finds himself enjoying the process, albeit a little repetitive and mundane. It feels like playing in a sandpit and proves to be quite destressing after the exhausting reality of university. Once the pot is half-full, Jisung orders they stop and mixes the contents with his hand, before grabbing a plastic container and pouring water to moisten the soil and let it drain. 

 

“Now, let me slip this baby out of her old, crusty pot,” he says, and pulls on the plant from the base of its stem. The soil bound by the roots slides out with ease, making Jisung let out a content sounds, “you’ll need to help me out a bit, now. Check if there are any softer roots, on the sides especially.”

 

Minho pinches them gently with his fingers, “they all seem sturdy.”

 

“Good girl,” Jisung tells the plant, making Minho snort, “now we put her in.”

 

There’s still room in the pot, so Jisung adds the soil and vermiculite at the edges, for extra support. He waters her, allows it to drain and repeats. When they’re done, they stand up and grab the pot from two sides and carry it towards the window sill. Minho pushes the curtains back and they finally set it down. The sun hasn’t yet set and its soft rays reflect from the leaves, creating a pretty halo around it.

 

“Shit, we gave birth,” Minho whispers.

 

“She’s so beautiful,” Jisung coos, pouting. “Now, what do we call her?”

 

“Hwayoung seems fitting,” Minho says, brushing the leaves gently with the pad of his fingers, “I mean she’s a tree, but.”

 

Jisung wraps his arms around his waist from behind, resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder. The older is surprised, but welcomes the affection, links their fingers together. He can see Jisung smile from the corner of his eyes, before the younger sighs, “it’s perfect.”

 

Hwayoung proves to be at least four (thousand) times less annoying than a child, which Minho definitely appreciates. In the mornings, when they eat breakfast, Minho can’t keep his eyes off her. Although their apartment is still rather bleak, it adds life to their living room. 

 

“You like her, huh,” Jisung pokes him with a spoon when Minho doesn’t catch what he’s been telling him, too preoccupied with the plant. 

 

“She’s fine,” Minho nods.

 

“I’ve seen you patting her, you know,” Jisung sends him a shit-eating grin, “it’s so cute. You treat her like a cat.”

 

“Well, I have three, so force of habit,” Minho explains, “plus, it’s not like you don’t rub her stem when you’re watering her.”

 

“So what if I do?” Jisung taunts. “I’m open about my love for our daughter.”

 

Minho can’t help, but smile, “you know what? I love that little bitch, too.”

 

The horrified look on Jisung’s face is priceless, “don’t call her that, oh, my god. Do you not have an ounce of decency?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“What do you call your cats?” 

 

“Well, not bitches, because that’s just offensive. But I call them twats sometimes when they’re acting up. Or my little motherfuckers,” Jisung shakes his head. 

 

They make sure to water her regularly, with Jisung sticking post-it notes saying, ‘not thirsty anymore :) - hy’ to the front of the pot if he’s already taken care of that. Minho returns the gesture by leaving ones that say ‘thirsty thots begone :p’, which he knows for a fact drive Jisung livid. 

 

When he’s in class, Jisung makes sure to send him pictures of Hwayoung, always adding a corny caption that never fails to lift up Minho’s mood. Hyunjin catches him grinning at a snap of the Dracaena on which Jisung drew a speech bubble, making Hwayoung say ‘I miss my dad’. Beneath there’s a caption: ‘Help support orphaned children by donating to the Han Jisung Foundation’.

 

“That’s absolutely disgusting,” Hyunjin says, looking disturbed, “like, I’m gay and all. But I think I need to come out as homophobic.”

 

“Shut up, it’s funny,” Minho defends them. “Maybe if you had a family you were passionate about.”

 

“So, you and Jisung are married now? Can’t say I’m shocked, but definitely feeling a bit queasy.”

 

“We’re platonically raising our kid,” Hyunjin scoffs, “stop, we really are. By the way, did you know how fun plants are? I love Hwayoung so much. I’m thinking of asking Jisung if he’s ready for another kid.”

 

“I’m genuinely this close to stabbing myself with a pencil, you’re so domestic. It’s so humiliating and I hate being a part of this,” he gives Minho a pained grimace, which he relishes. 

 

“Do you want to join us for lunch, by the way?” He adds, just to torture the younger some more. “He’s picking me up after class. I’m sure Sungie won’t mind.”

 

“I’m so glad _Sungie_ is picking you up, but I’d genuinely rather rot in the sewers with the radioactive rats than go anywhere with you two in your honeymoon phase,” Hyunjin winces, “but, like, you _do_ realise you’re into him, right?”

 

Minho thinks. Sure, he finds Jisung attractive and they’ve grown closer, recently, but he doesn’t pay it much mind, “nah, it’s fine. I like him a lot, but as a friend. He’s not into me either, don’t get any ideas.”

 

“You’re absolutely sure about that?”

 

“Yeah, you know how Jisung is,” Minho shrugs, “flirty, and all. But it’s not that deep.”

 

Last year, Jisung dated a lot of people, introducing a new significant other every now and then. It didn’t come as a surprise to Minho, who knew of Jisung’s charming personality, affectionate nature and eagerness to meet new people. He’s fun to be around with, intelligent as it gets, so he somewhat understands why so many people were interested in the younger. It usually ended on a positive note, neither of the sides emotionally attached enough to be heartbroken. 

 

When they go out, Jisung is already waiting, greeting the two cheerily, “Min, check this out, I found this hot app where you can schedule watering times and make profiles for your plants.”

 

“Oh, show me!” Minho runs to his side, clutching the younger’s arm in excitement. Hyunjin rolls his eyes. 

 

“You two are even more insufferable together.”

 

Jisung gasps and sneaks his arm around Minho’s waist protectively, “that’s the father of my child you’re insulting.”

 

_“It’s not that deep,”_ Hyunjin mocks, “see you, cunts.”

 

“Bye, babe,” Jisung calls out, turning his attention back to Minho as they walk down the corridor. His hand doesn’t leave Minho’s waist, but he doesn’t mind it at all. They fit well together. “So, baby, Mac fine? Or do we branch out and hit up a KFC?”

 

“Surprise me,” Minho grins. 

 

Much as Minho would like to pretend Hwayoung was just a funny new addition to his life, he finds himself frantically researching studies on plant growth at three a.m. He brings it up next evening at dinner, Jisung cooking spaghetti for the both of them. 

 

“Sungie, I read this one paper,” he says, helping to set the table, “it showed that exposing this one plant to Vedic chants maximises shoot elongation. They also said something about internodes, but Hwayoung is a monocot, right? So this doesn’t really check it.”

 

Jisung looks up from the meal, surprise and something akin to mirth painted on his face, “you know what a monocot is?”

 

“I wanted to know more about my baby,” Minho frowns. “I still don’t get much, but I’m watching Crash Course on plants. It’s actually kinda fun.”

 

Jisung traps him in a tight hug, “that’s so cute!”

 

“Oh, my god, let me go,” Minho giggles, almost dropping the cutlery to the floor. 

 

“You know I could always tutor you,” Jisung whispers to his ear, “wouldn’t that be hot?”

 

“You’re so irritating,” Minho turns around to face him, but doesn’t pull away, “stop being greasy in front of Hwayoung.” Jisung is about to say something, but Minho’s eyes widen as he sees the pot boil over. “Dude, the pasta!”

 

“Oh, fuck!” Jisung rushes to turn the stove off. “Shit, damn!”

 

“Be careful,” Minho reminds him, bringing over a kitchen towel. “What will I tell Hwayoung if you get hurt? She’s gonna be heartbroken.”

 

“Tell her you were distracting me,” Jisung stick out his tongue.

 

“I didn’t ask you to flirt with me,” Minho returns the sentiment, before both of them burst out laughing. “Is the pasta okay?”

 

“That’s the part you’re worried about?” Jisung snorts, but takes a fork from the drier and retrieves one strand of spaghetti. He feeds it to Minho, knowing the older is picky about the pasta having to be aldente.

 

“It’s perfect,” Minho gives him a thumbs up. When they clean up, and Minho serves both of them a generous portion, “so, about the Vedic chants…”

 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Jisung digs in, “I’m, like, in awe, you did a good job with the research.”

 

Minho gloats with pride, somehow satisfied with the thought of impressing Jisung, “did they reply, yet? About the internship, I mean?”

 

Jisung applied for a paid internship in a forensic laboratory affiliated with NYU, recommended by one of his professors for his skill in experimental procedures and whatnot. Minho read the letter of recommendation that Jisung sent all of his friends as bragging rights and apparently Jisung was excellent in lab work. 

 

“Oh, right, they said they’re still processing things, but this one head of whatever department called and she said she was impressed and stuff and I might actually get it,” Jisung beams. “I mean, I know I probably won’t be doing any actual lab work, more like coffee errands, but still. It _is_ an extra shift and they pay better.”

 

“Hope they have their clown costume ready if they have you make stuck up idiots coffee,” Minho sneers.

 

“Nah, it’s fine—”

 

“Maybe for you, but not for me,” Minho huffs. He knows how passionate Jisung is about lab work and his skill is on par with his enthusiasm. Seeing it be crushed would be heartbreaking, “I’ll end them on the spot, genuinely. Hwayoung will be filming.”

 

Jisung looks down at his plate, smiling softly to himself, “thank you, Min.” Minho thinks Jisung looks sweet like that, his usually boisterous self subdued. He likes discovering new sides to Jisung, keeping in mind that he likes all of them the same. Minho thinks that whoever ends up dating Jisung, experiencing the all-inclusive domestic bliss that he’s got on free trial, will be the luckiest person alive. 

 

Soon enough, Minho realises Christmas season is approaching and he has yet to figure out a gift for Jisung. The rest is covered; For Felix, he has some book the younger wanted, Hyunjin mentioned needing new headphones, Dahyun is getting a set of phone cases for every day of the week. His sister is assigned a gag gift and chocolate as per usual and his parents will receive a scarf each. Somehow, Jisung is the hardest choice, Minho conflicted about what gift would be suitable for the younger. 

 

He finds himself at the doors of the home depot, phone in his hand, searching for a perfect plant for Jisung. Doubt creeps up his mind as he realises they’ve never discussed taking up another addition to their little family, but he figures Jisung won’t mind. He opts for something Jisung mentioned in the passing, a Yucca. Not very picky environment wise, similar to the Dracaena in terms of care, the tree seems to be a good idea. He picks out a day where he knows Jisung has evening classes to get him the plant and repot it without him knowing it. 

 

Woojin helps him out, packing the new pot in the boot of his car. When he tells Minho to hand over the Yucca, he glares at him menacingly, “is my plant a thing to you?”

 

“God,” Woojin sighs, “Hyunjin was right when he said you got even more irritating since that parenthood thing started.”

 

“Hey, plants are living things, too,” Minho defends himself, “they get stressed, just like us. Did you know that when they get stressed they release this acid and it closes their stomata? It’s how they connect with the environment, you know? It’s so sad, like they’re literally closing themselves to the world, I was heartbroken.”

 

“I’m about to release some serious acid if you don’t stop whatever this is,” Woojin mutters. He does help Minho repot the plant, following the instructions they found on the internet. They do it over at the older’s house, where Minho finds the Yucca a perfect spot to hide until Christmas. He gives Woojin a comprehensive course on how to keep up the tree, despite knowing that he’ll be picking it up in a mere three days.

 

Minho’s plan for Christmas is the following — first give his other friends the gifts on the 24th, before going over to his parents’ for dinner. He’ll stay the night, take the subway to Woojin’s after breakfast and get the Yucca before heading back home to spend the rest of the day with Jisung. He knows the younger isn’t in contact with his family, the subject touchy enough for Minho to fear asking about the reason, so he decided to celebrate together. 

 

Everything goes well, the dinner running smoothly, his entire family acquainted with Hwayoung through the couple hundred (thousand) pictures Minho shows them. He’s happy to play with Doongie, Soonie and Dori, who he visits ever so often, but still dearly misses. When he’s about to go wash up after dinner and Jisung texts him.

 

_hi_

_can you talk_

 

_yeah_

_sup??_

 

_im feeling kinda down_

_its okay if you cant talk tho_

_i dont wanna distract you_

_its stupid im sorry for texting you_

 

_no_

_hey bub dont say that_

_dont be sorry_

_is it because of christmas_

 

_yeah_

_i tried talking to hwayoung_

_but now i feel kinda pathetic lmao_

 

_bub,,,_

_im sorry for not inviting you over_

_i should have thought of that_

 

_no no!!!_

_dont feel guilty_

_its a family thing i get it_

 

Minho sighs, for some reason the Christmas spirit completely drained from him. He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up about Jisung being alone, but before he knows it, Minho tells his parents that he has to leave early and get back home. 

 

“Did something happen?” His mom asks, worriedly.

 

“It’s something with the pipes,” he lies, “I’m sorry, it’s fine though, Jisung just needs my help.”

 

“Of course, say hi to him from us,” his dad smiles, warmly, “and to Hwayoung.”

 

Minho takes the subway back home, out of his breath when he reaches the door to their apartment, having run to and from the stations. He opens the door to see Jisung watching ‘Love Actually’ on the couch, a box of tissues on the floor. Hwayoung is placed beside him and he’s patting the plant gently. When he sees Minho, his eyes widen in disbelief.

 

“Minmin?” He tilts his head in confusion, pausing the movie. “Why are you here?”

 

“I missed Hwayoung,” Minho shrugs, lying on the couch facing Jisung. They’re pressed close together so that he doesn’t fall off. His heart breaks a little when he sees the younger’s tear stained face, “you said Christmas is a family thing, so I made sure to see both of mine.”

 

To his surprise, Jisung starts sobbing, tucking his head into Minho’s chest. The older pats his head, cards Jisung’s hair soothingly. He coaxes the boy to calm down, before drying his tears with his thumb gently. Seeing him so upset makes Minho’s chest tighten and he swallows back tears of his own. 

 

“Sorry,” Jisung says, Minho handing him the tissues. He blows his nose unceremoniously, but Minho can’t bring himself to care. “It’s just that, you called me your family.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Minho smiles, “I always think of you that way.”

 

Jisung’s lips tremble as he tries to smile, “it’s just nice to hear, because I thought I didn’t have one anymore.”

 

“You mentioned your mom a few times,” Minho remembers, “what about her?”

 

Jisung breathes in deeply, “we haven’t talked since I, you know…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Minho cradles his head, resting his chin on its top, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

 

“I didn’t even tell my dad,” he sniffs, “but I miss my mom so much. I’m scared of calling her.” 

 

“I get it, I do,” Minho kisses his forehead, “it took my parents a while to properly get over this. But I know how much you love your mom and I’m sure she loves you all the same. And one day, she’ll understand that it’s not you who’s in the wrong.”

 

“It isn’t?”

 

“No, never,” Minho reassures him, “look at you, Sungie. You have a job, you have an apartment, you’re doing so well at school, you’re gonna get that sweet internship. Everyone likes you, you’re such a good person, a great friend and you’re doing a hell of a job at raising Hwayoung. You have the world at your feet.”

 

“And I have you,” a smile blooms on Jisung’s face. Minho doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. 

 

“And you have me,” he confirms. “And I’m family. Speaking of which, I actually have a gift for you, but it’s at Woojin’s.”

 

“Wait,” Jisung says, “my gift for you is at Woojin’s too.”

 

“I got you a Yucca,” he confesses. 

 

“I got you that rose bush you liked,” Jisung tells him. They both burst out laughing at the realisation, “oh, damn bitch, we live like this.”

 

Minho feels warmth spread across his chest, sparks igniting him more than the fireplace back home. Seeing Jisung smile again, knowing he’s the reason, makes his heart do somersaults. Suddenly, he’s hyperaware of how intimate this feels, of how safe he feels in the younger’s arms, of how he wants to press himself infinitely closer. 

 

Maybe it’s him getting caught up in the moment, maybe it’s an epiphany that he was too scared to acknowledge before, but he really, _really_ wants to kiss Jisung.

 

He dusts the thought back to the corner of his mind, instead brushing his fingers down Jisung’s jawline, “great minds, huh?”

 

“Fools seldom differ,” Jisung jokes, “you wanna head over to Woojin’s now or tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow,” Minho says, reluctant to spend the night before Christmas even a centimetre apart from Jisung, the world outside too cold for his liking, “let’s just stay like this for now.”

 

“You know what,” Jisung whispers, unreadable look on his face, “you’re my best friend.” Minho feels the same. 

 

The Yucca, Namoo, and the rose bush, Jangmi, complement Hwayoung well. While Namoo stands in the living room with his older sister, further away from the window on a tripod they got from the home depot, Minho refuses to have Jangmi more than a foot away from him. It stands on the ledge in his room, taking in the sun prettily, the intensely red petals glowing in the soft light. 

 

“You’re attached to her,” Jisung comments, not as much teasingly as admiringly. Minho can’t deny it. Around New Year’s he catches a cold and forces Jisung to water Jangmi for him, because he’s scared of getting her sick. He refuses to accept any logical explanation from the younger that there’s no way a plant can contract any disease from him. 

 

“She’s a baby,” he croaks out, eating the chicken soup Jisung made under the warmth of a blanket. “Her immune system is fragile.”

 

Jisung sits down on the bed, brushing away hair that sticks to Minho’s feverish forehead, “you take care of yours first, ‘kay? I already called in sick at your work, you should e-mail your professors, though.”

 

“I’ll do it, yeah,” Minho sighs. “By the way, did Felix e-mail you about some party?”

 

“Yeah, it’s next month, you know, on the 14th. You going?”

 

“No, tell him I’ll be busy with school.”

 

“Sure, Min. Anything else you need?”

 

“No it’s fine,” he smiles weakly, “don’t you have classes?”

 

“I’m gonna go soon, but you have to promise me to get some rest, yeah? No twitter, just sleep,” Minho whines.

 

“But it’s boring!” He pouts, just to be difficult. 

 

“Tough luck, baby,” Jisung smiles, patting his cheek, “you need anything, I’m a call away, remember.”

 

Minho doesn’t notice how much closer they’ve grown over the last few months, until Dahyun points it out one day. They are hanging over at his and Jisung’s apartment, Minho showing Dahyun the new plants, fawning a little more than necessary over Jangmi. He can tell she’s trying to be polite and supportive, appreciates her putting up with his cooing over an inanimate object, but doesn’t put any effort in restraining himself whatsoever. 

 

His story of the time he and Jisung nearly overwatered Hwayoung is interrupted by the latter’s arrival from work. Jisung greets Dahyun when he notices her, then walks over to pat Hwayoung and Namoo individually and finally pulling Minho into a hug and pressing a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “hi, baby.”

 

“Ew, why do you have to do that,” Minho rubs his cheek with a fake grimace. He presses his palms to Jisung’s chest, “so, how’s the new office?” Jisung finally got the internship, today being his first day. He texted Minho before, in all caps, saying that he has his own desk.

 

“I mean, it is one desk and I share the room with five other people, but honestly? Amazing, love every second,” he gushes, before pulling away. “Sorry, have to say ‘hi’ to Jangmi, too.”

 

“Missed her, huh?” Minho grins.

 

“You bet.”

 

When he leaves, Minho turns back to Dahyun, who looks absolutely appalled. When he asks her what’s wrong, she blinks a couple of times before sighing heavily, “you’re absolutely sure you’re not together.”

 

“We aren’t,” Minho confirms. “Jisung is just affectionate, you know, he’s like that with everyone.”

 

“God, I hate gay people so much it’s unreal,” she shakes her head in incredulousness. “What about you, though? I’ve never seen you this close with anyone since, you know, Yukhei.”

 

Minho isn’t ready for this conversation with anyone, so he’s relieved when Jisung returns, sitting beside him on the couch, “Dahyunnie, how’s Momo?”

 

Momo is Dahyun’s girlfriend of a few years. Jisung mentioned her coming over ever so often to visit Dahyun at work when she still worked at the convenience store with Jisung, “we’re great, thank you. We’re planning on moving in together, but honestly, I’m reconsidering it now.”

 

“Why? It’s great, trust me,” Jisung assures her, “personally, at least, I'm enjoying myself. D’you like living with me, baby?”

 

“Love it,” he smiles sweetly. He means it wholeheartedly. 

 

It’s true that they’ve grown inseparable now, the two seeking out each other’s presence whenever they can. Whenever they can, they pick each other up from class. Jisung always makes a scene, acts like he hasn’t seen Minho in years, spinning him around excitedly despite the older’s halfhearted protests. 

 

Recently, Jisung started popping in when Minho works his shift at the department store, pretending to not know the older and asking moronic questions concerning the whereabouts of a particular item of clothing. Minho plays along, taking him around the shop, commenting on what sweater he thinks would fit Jisung. 

 

He proposes he visit Jisung at work as well, “you could finally show me that big boy desk of yours.” 

 

“You’re welcome to come over anytime,” Jisung smiles, “but my shifts do coincide with your classes and I don’t want you to skip them. You need to set a good example for the kids.” He gestures at their plants.

 

Minho finished making both of them their favourite tea, setting it on the coffee table next to Jangmi. He brought her to the family gathering from his room and somehow seeing all of their plants together and snuggling into Jisung’s side makes him feel complete. 

 

“By the way, I was looking at Hwayoung and some of her leaves have yellowish tips,” Minho mentions, worry evident in his voice. 

 

“I noticed that, too,” Jisung frowns, “it might be us overwatering her, but I’m scared of, you know…”

 

“Oh, god, you think it’s the spider mites?” Minho gasps.

 

“I hope not,” Jisung sighs, “let’s water her a bit less for now and see when happens. I don’t wanna spray her with insecticides too much.”

 

“Me neither,” Minho burrows his head into the juncture between Jisung’s neck and shoulder. “Poor baby.”

 

“She’s gonna be okay,” Jisung assures him, rubbing circles into his back. “She’s a brave girl.”

 

Much as it hurts to admit it, Minho realises by the time February rolls around that the intensifying urge to kiss the life out of Jisung might not be just a mindless whim anymore. Being oblivious and deflective can only go so far and Minho may be in a permanent state of denial, but he’s not stupid. He knows his crush on Jisung is getting deeper with every day and he’s scared to even think about the implications.

 

Minho begins to consider confessing, but the overload of possible consequences takes a toll on his fragile sense of self-worth. Worst case scenario, Jisung hates him and moves out, taking the plants with him. He knows it’s unlikely, not with Jisung being the literal salt of the earth, but the thought itself keeps him up at night. Best case scenario, Jisung likes him back. 

 

Somehow, it’s even less probable to Minho. 

 

Much as his friends like to act like Jisung has an engagement ring in the pocket of his coat, ready to whip it out at the older’s cue, Minho knows it’s not the case. Jisung has never been interested in the kind of long-term relationship Minho would like for them to have. He’s more of a living in the moment person and Minho feels like any sort of stability would prune Jisung when he has yet to grow. 

 

But sometimes, a tinge of hope creeps in. Minho notices the way Jisung’s eyes linger on him for a second too long, he realises that Jisung finds ways to always be physically close to him, relishes the fond smiles Jisung sends him, ones he never sends anyone else. It’s on a lazy Sunday morning, when Jisung wraps his arms around his waist from behind, tugging on the shirt Minho stole from the younger’s closet, as he’s making them scrambled eggs, when he realises he needs to tell the younger of the feelings he’s been harbouring.

 

He decides to confront the younger on Valentine’s day, not because he’s feeling particularly romantic, but because he knows Jisung doesn’t have evening classes and Minho is free as well. He prepares a speech in his head, runs through it a couple of times so that it’s not overly cliché or corny, but conveys his feelings sincerely. 

 

However, his plan goes to shit when he sees Jisung get ready to leave for the evening. 

 

“Uh, you’re going out?” He asks tentatively. Jisung shrugs.

 

“Yeah, thought it would be nice.”

 

Minho swallows heavily, “when are you gonna be back?”

 

“Oh, tomorrow morning, I guess. He said it’s a sleepover, I think,” he walks towards Minho and presses a kiss on his forehead. “Good luck with studying, see you.”

 

“See you,” Minho answers weakly, jumping in his seat when the door slams shut. 

 

For a few minutes, which seem to drag by like hours, he doesn’t entirely comprehend what happened. Then it hits him, crushes down on him mercilessly, that Jisung found himself a date for Valentine’s. While Minho will mope alone in their apartment, Jisung will be staying the night at somebody else’s place. 

 

Minho whimpers, bringing his knees to his chest and rocking himself back and forth. He chastises himself for being stupid, allowing false hope to cloud his sane judgement. His bottom lip jitters, but he refuses to cry. He hates crying, hates how weak the warm tears feel on his cheeks. 

 

In the spur of the moment, he pulls out a piece of paper and leaves Jisung a note, saying that he has family business to attend to and had to leave for a while. The thought of staying here alone for a second longer, knowing that he’ll have to witness Jisung’s return tomorrow morning is unbearable. He sighs, putting on his jacket and texting his parents, asking if he can stay for a few days. Silently, he bids the plants ‘goodbye’ and leaves. 

 

When his mom asks him what’s wrong, he smiles and shrugs, saying the heating stopped working and the landlord promised to come over tomorrow to fix it. Minho lies down on his bed heavily, his cats joining him. They could always sense when Minho was feeling down and tonight was no exception. Dori snuggles against his chest, Soonie tapping her little paw against his back. He scratches underneath Doongie’s chin, when he lies down on the pillow beside him. It helps him fall asleep, physically and emotionally exhausted.

 

In the morning, he decides to skip classes and stay at home. He ignores Jisung’s texts, unable to form a single coherent thought let alone respond to the boy. He only messages Hyunjin, asking him to please send him any notes from today’s classes. When he asks what’s wrong, Minho says it’s nothing. 

 

Because, if he’s being honest, it _is_ nothing. He can’t force Jisung to have feelings for him, he can’t blame him for not liking him back. The only person he can blame is himself, for allowing himself to think that someone the likes of Jisung would care for him beyond platonic understanding. Minho isn’t even sure if he deserves everything he gets from Jisung, it already being more than enough. He shouldn’t be greedy, because it always ends up in disappointment. 

 

_jisung came to pick you up_

_he’s really worried_

_i am too_

 

_i told him it’s family stuff_

 

_i don’t think he believes you_

 

_that sounds like a he problem_

 

_did he do something???_

_i’ll cut his dick off if he did anything_

 

_nonono_

_just_

_let me live k_

_tell him to water jangmi when im gone_

 

_when are you coming back?????_

 

_i’ll be coming to school soon_

_don’t know if im coming home tho_

 

_okay_

_stay safe!!!!_

_jisung says he’ll take care of everything_

 

_thanks_

 

After a week passes, the initial shock of the revelations subdues. It leaves Minho upset, more heartbroken that he ever remembers being, but functional enough to climb out of bed and head to school. He knows he’ll have to deal with Hyunjin at some point, but the younger doesn’t press him when Minho takes a seat next to him in class. To Minho’s relief, he just passes him a chocolate bar and pats this knee with a reassuring smile. 

 

He can’t seem to concentrate for longer than a few minutes, finding his thoughts drifting back to Jisung ever so often. Instead of taking notes, he doodles mindlessly, staring ahead at the empty spot on the board. It’s exhausting, but he survives somehow. It’s when he gets out of class when his composure crumbles completely. 

 

Jisung is waiting at his usual spot, because _of course he is,_ a perplexed look on his face. When he spots Minho, he rushes to his side, enveloping him in his arms before he can run away. Against himself, Minho eases himself into the hug. 

 

“Baby,” Minho freezes on the spot, has to remind himself that it doesn’t mean anything, it never meant anything, “what happened? Is everything okay? Talk to me, please…”

 

He sounds so lost, so vulnerable that Minho almost takes pity on him, almost lets it slip. But one look at Jisung stops him. He can’t force himself onto Jisung, can’t intervene in whatever relationship the younger has. Minho shakes his head and sends Jisung a smile, “sorry. I’m out of it, but it’s okay now. It’s nothing.”

 

He’s known Jisung long enough to tell that the younger doesn’t believe him, “are you coming back home with me?”

 

Minho contemplates refusing, wonders if distancing himself from Jisung isn’t for the better. But the feeling of Jisung’s hand on his waist, the other brushing his cheek gently, as though Minho will break under too much pressure, makes his mind go hazy. He nods before he realises what a moronic idea this is. Jisung looks mildly relieved, but still concerned. 

 

When they arrive back at their place, Minho goes to his room and closes the door behind him. He climbs in bed and hides under the duvet. He can’t bring himself to look at Jangmi, so he turns around to face the wall. He doesn’t reply when Jisung knocks on his door, but the younger walks in anyway. 

 

“Hey,” he whispers, “I made us dinner.”

 

Minho is hellishly hungry, but somehow the thought of taking a single bite of the food makes his stomach uneasy. He shakes his head, “not hungry.”

 

He feels the mattress dent as Jisung sits down on the edge of the bed, rubbing up and down his shoulder, “you have to eat.”

 

“Not hungry,” Minho repeats, feeling tears pooling at his eyes. He tries to blink them back, but he can’t. 

 

“Please, baby,” he shivers, “what’s wrong? Is it something I’ve done?”

 

“No,” he stammers, trying to conceal the fact that he’s crying, “no, never. It’s on me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Min, I wish I could do something,” Jisung sighs, giving Minho’s covered form one last hug and leaves. 

 

Minho is a silent crier, which saves him the embarrassment and excessive theatrics. His slump doesn’t seem to fade away in the morning, so he waits for Jisung to leave in the morning to finally get something to eat. Minho takes out a tub of ice cream from the freezer and slams its contents on a piece of uncooked toast. It’s pitiful, but he doesn’t have the energy to prepare anything else. 

 

Not wanting to stay alone and wallow in self-pity, he messages Woojin, asking if he’s free. When the latter invites him over, he rushes out, grabbing his jacket and wallet but leaving his phone on the table. Woojin greets him, pretending to be chill, but Minho can sense how worried it is.

 

“So, you’ve heard the news,” he jokes, “yeah, I’m having a hot breakdown, can’t believe I have to entertain you guys with my misery.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Woojin chuckles, involuntarily. “What’s the big deal? Jisung said something about your family…”

 

“Oh, no, they’re all right,” Minho assures, “it was an excuse to get him off my back. It’s about him, obviously, doesn’t take a genius.”

 

“I thought so,” Woojin sighs. “What did he do?”

 

“He went on a date with some dude, stayed the night.”

 

“Oh. Oh, damn.”

 

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, had a blast,” he laughs, strained. 

 

“I can’t believe he would’ve done this,” Woojin shakes his head, “I mean, he hasn’t dated anyone ever since he’s moved in with you. When did he even meet the guy?”

 

“Dunno, didn’t really ask. Was kinda busy going through it and all,” Minho tries to keep his cool, but his voice breaks halfway through. “God this is so funny, popped the sickest laugh boner. I was gonna confess that evening, you know? This is so funny, the most epic prank of twenty nineteen.”

 

Woojin pulls him into a hug, “you liked him, didn’t you?”

 

Minho laughs, “God, I did, didn’t I? Fuck, come to think of it, I think I was in love with him. Fuck, no, I _am_ in love with him, now that’s wild. Love that, love every second of this.”

 

“It genuinely makes no sense, though,” Woojin argues, “I’ve known him for some time and I’ve never seen him like that about anyone.”

 

“I thought so, too, for a second,” Minho sniffs, “it was so sweet and domestic and he looked at me like Richard Gere looked at pimped out Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when I wore his shirts. You know what’s the funniest?”

 

“What?”

 

“I think to myself sometimes, you piss ass idiot, you could have been dating him if only you said yes when he asked you out that time in sophomore year. And fuck, in hindsight I don’t think there’s anything I regret more. But then it hits me — he liked me because I was what? Pretty? He’d break up with me after a week, maybe two, just like Yukhei did when he realised that you can’t date someone only for their looks.”

 

“No, hey, don’t say that,” Woojin stops him, “Yukhei was different. You weren’t a good fit and that’s neither of yours faults. But Jisung genuinely liked you.”

 

“Well, he likes someone else now,” Minho purses his lips, “so there’s nothing much we can do here but get five consecutive strokes and, dunno, get over him. Fuck, what if he moves out with the guy? What will we do with the plants? I mean, Namoo is formally his, Jangmi is mine, but Hwayoung is, legally, both of ours? Plus, we can’t separate the kids, but neither of us has a car and I’m not risking the subway, Hwayoung’s leaves still have yellow tips. Jisung thought it might be spider mites, God, what if it’s the spider mites?”

 

Woojin calms him down and puts on a movie of Minho’s choice. He lets him yell at the screen whenever the main character’s love interest appears and covers him with a blanket when he starts dozing off. The ringing of Woojin’s phone in the other room wakes him up.

 

“Hi, Jisung, what’s wrong?” he hears Woojin say. “Yeah, he’s with me now…No, no, it’s fine, he’s napping…No, I don’t think you should come, I’ll drive him back home, no worries…Yeah, I promise he’s fine…No, you can’t, I told you he’s sleeping…Dunno, as soon as he wakes up…Okay…Okay…Okay, I got it the first five times, Jesus.”

 

When he hangs up, Minho pretends to be fast asleep. Woojin shakes him lightly, “hey, sleepyhead. Jisung called, apparently you left your phone and he got worried.”

 

“He should worry about his new boyfriend,” Minho croaks out, pettily.

 

“I promised to drive you back, is it okay? He sounded like he was ready to cut my head off if I didn’t, so,” Minho rubs his eyes and nods. The ride back is silent, Minho still a little out of it, resting his head on Woojin’s shoulder with his eyes closed. When they arrive, Jisung is pacing at the entrance of their apartment block. 

 

“God, you worried me,” he heaves a sigh of relief in lieu of a greeting when Minho steps out, “thanks, man.”

 

“No problem,” Woojin says, “take care, both of you.”

 

The ride upstairs is silent. While Minho doesn’t usually mind being quiet with Jisung, it never being awkward or uncomfortable, but this time tension weighs down on both of them. Minho turns to the comfort of his room as soon as he takes off his shoes, feeling Jisung’s eyes trail behind him as he leaves him behind. When Jisung offers him dinner, he agrees, not wanting to hurt the younger more than he already is, but they don’t speak at all. 

 

It’s a Saturday when Minho leaves his room in the afternoon to see a note from Jisung saying that he’s taking the night shift in the lab. He leaves a heart at the bottom and Minho feels like crying again. Instead, he decides to pester another one of his friends.

 

_yo lix_

_lmao_

_dunno if youve heard_

 

_but youre going thru it bcoz of jisung?_

_yeah i know_

_samesies btw_

 

_our kingery is beyond me_

_i have wine_

_wanna come over_

 

_hell yeah_

_let’s get this depression bread commies_

 

_minddddd_

_bring bake rolls or ill end you btw_

 

Minho feels like he’s back in high school with the competency of dealing with his problems. He stuffs his mouth full of bake rolls, swallowing them down with a large gulp of wine. Felix is lying beside him on the floor, legs perched on the couch.

 

“How are you and Hyunjin doing?” Minho asks.

 

“Damn, dunno, homie. Literally go through it every day because of a fucking Pisces, that’s so sick and twisted,” Felix slurs, his fifth glass of wine almost empty. Minho’s a little dizzy himself, but not yet drunk.

 

“Water signs ain’t _shit_ man, literally,” he slams his fist on the couch. “Wait, fuck, _I’m_ a water sign. Well, I ain’t shit either, fuck damn.”

 

“Yeah, screw fucking water signs!”

 

“Hey, I’m a water sign,” Minho frowns.

 

“Ah, shit dude, sorry. My bad,” Felix pats him on the shoulder. “So, what’s with you and Jisung?”

 

“Dude, it’s mental. Genuinely surreal.”

 

“Dude, what happened with you two, actually?”

 

“He started dating someone,” Minho rolls his eyes. “This is sick, I’m so in love with him.”

 

“Shit, mate, that’s _rough_ ,” Felix says, “but, like, isn’t he in love with you, too?”

 

“Apparently not, lmao,” Minho laughs miserably, “love that for me.”

 

“No, no,” Felix squeezes his eyes shut in concentration, “no, he told me. He got you the flowers and all.”

 

“Jangmi!” Minho says, jumping to get the bush from his room, “isn’t she the prettiest? Jisung gave her to me.”

 

“Yeah!” Felix points at the roses. “He told me he got it for you. They’re red!”

 

“And what about it?” 

 

“It’s because he likes you, he told me,” Felix answers blatantly, sobering Minho up immediately.

 

“He what? When did he tell you that, the fuck?” 

 

Felix ponders for a while, “uh, the party?”

 

“What party? Why wasn’t I invited?”

 

“You ask so many questions!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Minho takes a deep breath. “What party was it?”

 

“The one on Valentine’s Day. You said you couldn’t come,” Felix remembers. Minho racks his memory to remember any such thing.

 

“Wait, no,” he frowns, “Jisung was on a date for Valentine’s.”

 

“No, no,” Felix sits up, “he was with me and Hyunjin. We were watching a movie, I don’t remember which one. And then we talked about stuff and Jisung said that he likes you, so he got you the roses.”

 

Realisation dawns on Minho, making his eyes open wide. He completely forgot about the party Felix invited both of them to back in January that he told Jisung to bail out on for him. He shoots up from the floor, calling Jisung. When he doesn’t pick up, Minho decides to go to the Lab himself. 

 

“I need to go. You, uh,” he takes a look around, “you, come with me.”

 

He helps Felix up and drags him to Jisung’s room, tucking him up. Felix doesn’t look like he understands what’s happening, but cuddles up under the duvet nonetheless. He locks the door behind him and not wanting to wait for the lift, he runs downstairs. Still a little tipsy, he makes his way to the subway, googling what train he needs to take to get to Jisung’s lab.

 

“Look,” he explains to the receptionist once again, “I’m just here to see my friend. His name is Jisung Han, he works in this lab. I mean, it’s an internship, but it’s a paid one. We live together, it’s an emergency.”

 

“I know Mr Han and I’m sure it’s very important, but I can’t just let in people,” the receptionist replies. “I can call his office, okay?”

 

“Sure, anything,” Minho sighs, tapping his foot against the floor. 

 

“Oh, Sana, hi. There’s a guy downstairs, he says he’s here to see Jisung. He says it’s urgent. Excuse me, Sir, what was your name again?”

 

“Minho Lee.”

 

“Minho Lee…should I let him in, then? Okay, he’s waiting at the front lobby, thanks,” he drops the phone and turns back to Minho, “another intern says she knows you, she’s going to take you upstairs in a second.”

 

“Sure, thanks,” Minho nods, realising it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t let the receptionist know that he’s never met a single one of Jisung’s coworkers. Soon enough, a blonde girl dressed in a lab coat appears, offering Minho a kind smile before pulling him to the side.

 

“You live with Jisung, right?” She asks. When Minho nods, she claps her hands, “oh, my god, I’ve heard so much about you! Come in, I’ll show you around the lab. Jisung is still a bit busy, though, is it really urgent?”

 

“Uh, no,” Minho smiles sheepishly, “I needed to talk to him, but, like, it can wait. I should have honestly waited for him to get back, but I’m a little out of it today.”

 

“So, down the hall is where we do most of the experiments. We mostly focus on DNA related stuff, so like PCR and then electrophoresis. We offer sequencing, too.” Minho can only nod, making a mental note to ask Jisung about it later.

 

“Here’s the intern office,” Sana opens the door and points to a desk in the corner of the room, next to a window, “and that’s Jisung’s desk. You can wait there until he comes back, it shouldn’t take too long.”

 

“Okay, thank you,” Minho takes a seat on the chair, rolling it from side to side. “You work together, right?”

 

“Yeah, we’re both interns,” Sana explains, “he talks about you a lot, I was wondering when I’d finally meet you.”

 

Minho can’t help the grin that makes its way onto his face, “thanks. It’s good to know.”

 

He takes a look at Jisung’s desk, papers sprawled all over it. The laptop monitor is covered with post-it notes around the edges. Beside it, there’s a picture frame and to Minho’s surprise, he sees himself. It’s a photo Jisung took of him when they finished setting the Yucca in the living room. Minho is smiling to the camera, Hwayoung behind him, Namoo on his right and Jangmi placed on his lap. 

 

“He said you guys raise plants together? That’s super sweet,” Sana continues, “he speaks of them like kids.”

 

“They are our kids,” Minho confirms, “we’re raising them.”

 

“You guys are like the cat gays, but, like, with plants,” Sana marvels.

 

“I do have cats, back at my parents’ home. There’s Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they’re little angels,” Minho coos, “little cunts, too, sometimes, but we love them. We can’t have animals over at our flat, though.”

 

“That’s a pity,” she frowns, “my girlfriend and I adopted a puppy a few months ago, he’s a handful, but I can’t imagine a better boy.”

 

“Oh! What breed is he?” Minho asks, but before Sana can answer, the door is pulled open and a tired Jisung steps in. When he raises his head and his eyes meet Minho’s, Sana quickly makes her way out, sending Minho a supportive smile.

 

“Min, is everything okay?” Jisung asks. “Sorry, I was in the lab, are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho nods, “it’s just that…you have my picture on your desk.”

 

“Well, yeah,” the younger looks away, “I like it.”

 

“Ah,” Minho gets up from Jisung’s chair and walks towards the boy, “I came to say I’m sorry. I was an asswipe, kinda. Actually, not kinda. Very. Felix came over, right, and I realised I deserve zero rights. This makes no sense, sorry, I was drinking. But I wanted to say sorry, so, I’m sorry.”

 

“Baby,” Jisung’s expression softens, as he pulls Minho into a hug, too short for his liking, “don’t be sorry, you were sad. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help.”

 

“No, no, it’s genuinely my fault,” Minho shakes his head, “I got stressed and upset. And I’m kind of like a plant you know?”

 

“Yeah?” Jisung smiles, “how so?”

 

“I release an insane amount of abscisic acid and I close my stomata,” Minho says, “that made more sense in my head, I mean, I don’t have stomata.”

 

Jisung laughs, “you really don’t, yeah.”

 

“But, like, I close myself up. And I’m sorry, I should have talked to you,” he sighs. “But, if we’re being honest it’s not why I’m here. I mean it is, but there’s another thing. The thing is, I had Felix over, right? And we talked and he was like, ‘Boohoo, Hyunjin doesn’t love me’ and I wanted to call him a dumb bitch, but I’m a good friend. And then I was like, ‘Boohoo, Jisung went out on Valentine’s Day’ and Felix said that you were with him.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I spent the night with them. What did you think I was doing?” Jisung takes off his lab coat and leans against a desk. 

 

“I thought you were on a date. I forgot the party was even a thing.”

 

“What are you talking about, I haven’t been dating for the longest while now,” Jisung says, “that’s what made you so upset? You thought I was with somebody else?”

 

Minho nods, hesitantly, “uh, yeah?”

 

“Come here,” Jisung grabs Minho’s hand and pulls him closer, “look, Minho, I know you’re drunk—”

 

“‘M not, just a little dizzy!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jisung smiles fondly, “hear me out, okay? I don’t know how much clearer I can be, but there’s no one, and I mean _no one_ , for me but you.”

 

Minho’s heart flutters, corners of his lips pulling up naturally. The world seems to stop around them, the only indication of passing time being the incessant ticking of the clock. He rests his arms around Jisung’s neck, the younger’s hands finding their usual spot on Minho’s waist.

 

“You like me?” Minho asks, a giggle spilling from his lips involuntarily.

 

“Take a guess,” Jisung pecks his forehead, “now, I’ll clock out a bit early, let’s go back home, ‘kay? Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”

 

Minho shakes his head, “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you, too, Min,” Jisung takes his hand and leads him to the water dispenser, “c’mon, let’s get you some water at least.”

 

He sips from the plastic cup, watching Jisung pack up his stuff hastily into his backpack, “Sana said you talk a lot about me.”

 

Jisung blinks and purses his lips, “Sana says a lot of things.”

 

“It’s okay, you know? I talk a lot about you, too,” Minho confesses, “I know Jangmi won’t rat me out, though.”

 

“You’re smarter than I am,” Jisung looks ready to leave, so Minho throws the cup into the trashcan, almost missing. “How sober of you.”

 

“Shut up,” Minho drags out, as Jisung opens the door for him. They pass by Sana who waves them goodbye, giving Jisung a smug grin. The boy glares back, until Minho scolds him, “don’t be rude to Sana, she’s so nice.”

 

“Yeah, very,” Jisung snorts. “I’m just glad you didn’t meet Nayeon, I wouldn’t be able to live this one down.”

 

When they get back home, Jisung brings him to the couch, but goes to the kitchen himself to fix Minho a glass of water with alka seltzer, “drink up.”

 

“I’m not hungover, yet,” Minho groans, but drinks anyway, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jisung says, rubbing his arm, “I’m sorry for not specifying where I’m going.”

 

“I mean, you’re allowed to meet other people, I can’t throw a tantrum just because you like someone else,” Minho reasons, “it was just…shocking I guess.”

 

“Minho, I already told you I don’t wanna date other people,” Jisung reminds him. “I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t have run away and you definitely should have talked to me, but just to be clear.”

 

“I’m sorry for not going on a date with you back in freshman year,” Minho sighs, the aftertaste of the alka seltzer prickling at his tongue, “I’m not sorry to you, more to myself. It’s just that this dude I was dating broke up with me before right? And he was nice about it and all but it more or less went ‘you’re hot but nothing more’. So I had this complex over that, I thought you’d be interested for a while until you realised there’s not much more to me.”

 

Jisung crouches in front of him, propping his head up with his fingers, “hey, look, the guy was a moron, a colossal dumbass if you will. That time I asked you out because okay, you’re attractive, I’m not gonna deny it, but I also saw you playing with the cats right? And it was the sweetest shit I’ve seen, genuinely. I liked how much you cared about them.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah,” Jisung reassures him, patiently. “And look, now that we’re friends and I know you very well, I still like you.”

 

“As in…”

 

“As in I _like_ like you, that’s what I’m hitting at. I don’t date other people anymore, because honestly, what’s the use. They don’t watch Crash Course to learn about their pet plant or research papers they don’t really get so that it grows better,” he takes Minho’s hands in his own, “no one’s gonna make me feel like you do.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Minho yawns, exhaustion beginning to kick in.

 

“Which part?”

 

“You like me,” Jisung nods. “And you know that I like you back?”

 

“I figured, yeah,” he smiles giddily.

 

“So why aren’t we, dunno, kissing or some shit?”

 

Jisung throws his head back, chuckling to himself, “I’m not kissing you when you’re drunk.”

 

“I already told you, I’m not—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, save it. Tomorrow we’ll talk about this more, okay?” Jisung coaxes him. “Look, you’re tired now, baby, you’re eyes are drooping. Go take a shower and we’ll go to sleep. In the morning I’m all yours.”

 

“You can’t go to sleep,” Minho informs him.

 

“And why is that, pray tell?”

 

“Felix is in your bed,” Jisung sighs and mutters something under his breath that Minho doesn’t quite catch. “We can sleep on the couch, like we did on Christmas.”

 

“Wow, making it very hard not to kiss you,” the younger sighs, “you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Still, take a shower okay? I’ll go after you and we’ll sleep here, promise.”

 

Both of them in their pyjamas, Minho snuggles close to Jisung as he drapes a blanket over them. Minho smiles when he feels the boy wrap his arms around him protectively. 

 

“Goodnight, Sungie,” he whispers.

 

“Goodnight, baby,” Jisung replies, tracing shapes into Minho’s back.

 

“Like it when you call me that,” he mumbles, “‘m your baby.”

 

“Yeah,” Jisung tells him, “don’t tell the kids, but you’re my favourite.”

 

“Mine’s Jangmi, but you’re a close second.”

 

“That’s fine,” Jisung says, “if it’s you, I’ll take what I can get.”

 

April greets them with the breath of spring, the soft sun illuminating their newly decorated room. Jisung hung fairy lights on the walls, while Minho picked out a few cushions from Target, baby blue to match the new carpet. Their apartment feels even more like home, now and Minho watches from the couch as Jisung paces it back and forth, “babe, you okay?”

 

“Uh, not really,” Jisung says, ever so frankly. “Are you sure she wants to see me?”

 

“Well, that’s what she told me,” Minho gets up and lets Jisung rest his forehead against his shoulder, which he knows calms the younger down. 

 

The reason behind Jisung being particularly stressed lies in his mom’s expected visit. Minho reached out to her a while back, knowing that Jisung would be too scared to do so himself and ended up exchanging a series of e-mails with Mrs Han. Despite his initial doubts, the woman didn’t shy away upon learning of their relationship. In fact, she seemed to regret the way she acted before and it was clear to Minho how much she loved and cared for Jisung.

 

When she proposed a meeting, Minho and Jisung discussed whether the latter was ready to see his mom again. Jisung was absolutely petrified, but the prospect of making up someone so important to him made it a risk he was willing to take. Now, albeit still very much anxious, Jisung does feel better prepared mentally. Minho squeezes him tightly for extra support. 

 

“Hey, it’s gonna go well. She was sweet when we talked, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” he reassures Jisung, “I can tell just how much she loves you. Trust me, I wouldn’t let her step a foot inside this flat if I wasn’t absolutely sure of that.”

 

“I love you,” Jisung mumbles, raising his head to capture Minho’s lips with his own. 

 

“I love you, too, so much,” Minho smiles, “remember, no matter what happens, you’ve got me. And our four kids.”

 

During spring break, they got the banana tree Jisung wanted from the home depot. With the extra lab paycheck coming in, they had enough to afford proper fertiliser for Hangyeol. Their friends weren’t even surprised at this point, congratulated them on the new addition with pained grimaces. 

 

“I love it,” Jisung grins, “love our dysfunctional family.”

 

“Hwayoung grew so big,” Minho points out, “I’m glad she’s healthy, too. We have to repot her, soon, though.”

 

“We do,” the doorbell rings, making Jisung freeze on the spot. Minho grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly. 

 

“You ready?” He asks.

 

Jisung nods, “yeah. You’re with me.”

 

Minho smiles. It’s really that simple. 

**Author's Note:**

> [buy me a ko-fi <3](http://ko-fi.com/joonswig) / [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/midzyonce)


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